Page 87 of The Shadowed Oracle
Ingrid’s breath caught. “Oh,” she said in a haunting whisper. “That explains… well, the way she is.”
“The king, too,” Dean added. “If you’re marked by the matrimonial rite, and your spouse dies, it’s like being emptied out internally. His crown was hiding his bond. It remains after death, but you can never fill the void. Not until you join your other half in the spirit realm.”
“How awful,” Ingrid said, conflicted. “Do they all go through the ritual? Do they recognize the marriage if—shit, sorry. I’m doing it again. The barrage of questions.” She put her hand over her mouth, but Dean quickly removed it, placing it back on his shoulder.
“There’s no other recognized form of union in Ealis,” he said. “It’s that, or courting. That’s why you’ll find a lot more unmarked Viator than marked ones. It’s forever, not just in words but in flesh. The pain of separation never leaves you. Never ceases. Never sleeps.”
Never.
The word seeped into her. And all at once, Ingrid could feel a fragment of what the bond might feel like. Her heart breakingitself in two, then mending back together with the help of another’s. It was more than pain. It was a splitting of one’s soul.
The pain of it thundered within her.
Her blood slammed against her veins.
She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Looking to Dean with her eyes wide was her only way to communicate.
“Okay,” he said calmly, holding her tight. “Don’t fight it. Let it in, and it will pass.”
He didn’t panic, didn’t ask what was wrong, he only held her. Brought her head into his chest and stroked her hair. Somehow, he’d known right away what was happening.
“Focus on one thing at a time,” he said soothingly. “One breath, just one. Let it in, then let it fade.”
He moved his hand to her back, drawing circles with his fingers.
"I’m just going to keep talking, okay? Distracting you,” he went on. “You’ll be getting these spells more often now.”
Ingrid looked up to him, jaw clenched, tears forming in the corner of her eyes.
Dean seemed to shrink at the sight. “It’s okay. This happens to be one of the few things Karisdidtell me about. Growing up, he’d have episodes whenever he heard about something—anything that could be considered important to the workings of this world. It’s just your power rooting itself in Ealis. Getting familiar. After a while, you won’t have them anymore.” He paused, shaking his head. “Fuck. I should’ve known talking about the bond would tap you into the feeling. I’m so sorry.”
Ingrid did her best to relax her body, unclenching her jaw, letting herself go completely limp in Dean’s arms. She closed her eyes and did as Dean told her to do. She let it in. Let it in and let it fade away, submitting herself to the ripples of unrelenting magic coursing through her, until it was gone.
“Is it over?” Dean looked deep into her eyes, anger and shame still painting his cheeks red. “I can’t believe I didn’t tell you this would happen. I didn’t—fuck. How could I forget?”
“It’s okay. I’m okay.” Ingrid did her best to hide the lingering pain as it subsided. “Don’t beat yourself up. There’s so much to remember.” She smiled up at him. “Why do you think I ask so many damn questions?”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The tavern wasn’t anywherenear closing down. Drinks were still being poured, dancers still embraced their partners, music still flowed, but the good Princess decided to leave before she got too drunk to lead her exhausted guests back to the castle.
They took the same path they’d taken to get there, a winding cobblestone trail that led them to a hidden dark alleyway between a dress shop and an antiquities vendor so full of knick-knacks and novelties they spilled into the street on rolling tables and shelves. The four of them stopped as Callinora held up a hand. The princess drew a simple symbol with her finger, akin to an infinity sign with a zig-zag through the middle, just like she’d done to close the door when they’d first come through, then a small metal hatch with rusty handles on each side slowly materialized. Like magic.
Raidinn stepped forward. “Allow me,” he said, yanking it open to reveal a small passage, a ladder, and an odd, mildew-like smell.
It was an underground tunnel system below the king’s castle, mostly used by the royals in the first days of Maradenn. Either to hide from an enemy siege or to transport those that the king or queen would rather not be seen coming in or out. But, inCallinora’s lifetime, they had mostly been forgotten about. She’d discovered them as a child, after secretly following her mother heading out on one of her trips to the forest.
“Always sneaking off,” Callinora said fondly. “Like mother like daughter.” Her echo carried and bounced off the damp stone walls.
At first, the path had seemed a very unpleasant and dark place full of odd sounds and small critters. As she became more familiar though, Ingrid grew fond of it. There was a feeling of mystery at every turn, history in every stretch of ancient rock, not to mention they seemed to go on forever, winding and curling down unseen crevices of this underground world.
Further in, they came upon a ladder leading up to another level of the tunnels. The bronze metal bars shifted slightly as the five of them climbed one at a time. Callinora had gone first, careful not to dirty her white skirt and blouse, then stood at the top waiting for the rest of them.
Ingrid waved the others ahead, peering around the void-like halls for a moment. There was a strong energy there. She could feel it. Whispers, cries of the forgotten, and buried secrets all floated around her like butterflies. If only she reached out and snatched them, she knew she could peer into them, into long-ago ages and forgotten names. But she didn’t. Her power was unpredictable at best, and she chose patience rather than be launched into another episode.
She gripped the ladder and climbed. On the second, much dryer and well-lit level, the five of them had to be quiet when walking from room to room. The passages had been built in between the many bedrooms of the castle. The little corridors were just feet from where trusted vassals and even the king himself slept. Muted footsteps were all Ingrid heard as they traversed the building, and Callinora’s guidance was imperative due to the lack of signifying traits in the corridors. It was nearlyimpossible to distinguish between where you were going and where you just came from. Just a long hall with thin tunnels and hidden staircases popping up whenever they felt like it.
“I think you’ll like this one.” Callinora had stopped in the middle of what seemed like a dead end, turning to Tyla. “Have a look.”
